The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1887-03-25
LOST AT THE MILL.

In the beautiful district of Fannet,
on the coast of Donegal, near Lough
Swilly-the Lake Of Shadows-liyed two
poor families, celebrated far and wide as
the best neighbors ever known or
heard Of
II Martin wanted a hand with his
harvest Donnelly was ready to give it
and ask no wages, and the kindness was
returned when the potato digging came
on. Their wives also lived in the great
est harmony, and they were such close
neighbors that they met continually, for
one roof covered the two houses.
This long cabin, or rather range Of
cabins, stood on the banks Of Mulroy,
an inlet of the Atlantic, so Iandlocked as
to look like a lake. Behind lowered gi-
gantic heather-crowned mountains; in
front lay the high road leading from the
sea to Milford, the nearest market
town, winding road. hard and white
from limestone, now dipping down into
a valley, now mounting up a sharp hill,
and always keeping close to the blue
waters OF Mulroy, divided from it by a
shelving bank festoOned with wood
bine.
Mulroy was studded with manyislands
Islands sacred to the wee folks"
Islands in possession OF the sea birds;
islands where sleepy broad-brOwed seals
basked on warm evenings
Beyond Mulroy rose more mountains,
the nearer hills cultivated to their sum
mits, the more distant so pale and in
distinct that they were like smoke
colOred phantoms against the sky
Errigal, a cone-shaped mountain, the
last point of Irish earth seen by the
emigrants as they sailed to America,
and Muckish, the pigs back, were most
prominent in the range.
The Martins and Donnellys did not
LyTlf hot -
the loveliest landscapes in the world.
They thought Mulroy wild, desolate
place.
Sometimes the deep silence OF the
place was broken by the keening OF
mOurncrs or the chant OF priests, and
then the children in the cabins would
run out TO the road, and look up and
down.
A long procession wound from the
seacOast, and on It's way to yondeT burial
ground beneath the chapel at the edge
OF the lake-a holy spot, marked by a
forest OF black wooden crosses. The
priest walked first; then came the coffin
followed bya motley company-mcn in
long gray stockings, knee breechcs and
brOgues, mounted on shaggy ponies,
and women seated behind them dressed
in nomespua and scarlet headgear.
The kecuing woke the mountain
echoes, the fairy glen throwing back the
SoNllu 10 lllf lltiA iilitl llldL SlOOu, StluuJ
and grim. by the roadside; then the
crying and chanting died away and
hOCk- of curLr" and plOycr circling over
head sang a shriIl requiem.
Two of the children were wont to fol-
low TIA. pr3cr--iOu-Tcagu Martin and
Mary DuuuuIIy. They were iuseparable
tOdIii.- tr'G I'm hand to school hand i'm
hand To- chapel. playing together. herdng
the COWS together on the knowes. They
would follow the procession together as
far as the flax mill. a mile from their
own doors, and would stay there 10 play.
The gOssips OF the country remarked
the tender friendship of the children
and forctold that it would end in mat
trimony.
The first separation OF these little
friends took place when they were
thirteen years old, and league was hired
by farmer. Mary moped and fretted
when he was gone wandering sadly to
Che flax MILL their old play place, and
then wandering back again with her head
hanging down. But she found some con-
ISOLATION in knitting his socks, washing
his clothes, and carrying the little bundle
to him on Saturday at the farm
house.
Things did not turn out as the neigh
bors expected. The friends did not be-
come lovers: they remained devoted
friends, but they married strangers.
Years went by. The old Martins and
DOnnellys were gathered to their
fathers" and Mary and her husband,
and league and his wife, lived on in the
old cabin, under the roof wi other"
and the good neighbOrhood was the
same as ever. Time passed they grew
middle aged, then old; the days when
they had played at the flax mill were
very far away.
One day Mary was taken very ill-so
i'll that the priest was sent for. She
l. L.
and then she asked for league He
was at a distance-gOne to Milford with
cattle to sell-wOuld not return home
till late. Mary watched the door as long
as her sight lasted.
is there no word of Teague?' was her
constant question. His name was the
last upon her lips.
woeful man was league when he
found his old friend gone. He walked
beside her husband after the coffin. and
saw her laid lowin the churchyard mould
and then he came back to the cabins the
truest mourner she had. But work had
to be done. though his heart was heavy
and the next morning he took his fax to
the mill
As he logged along the limestone road
in his cart he was suddenly aware Of
figure seated behind him on the bundles
OF flax. How had she got there? He
thrilled with terror, and it was all he
could do to look round and see who was
his companion. An old woman? Yes
and her red shawl, the gray hair, the
features, the blue eyes, which had never
lost their brightness, all reminded him
OF Mary. He looked closer.
1t was Mary certainly, and he must
conquer his fear and speak to her for
the sake Of their lifelong friendship.
Must Mary be restless wanderer be
cause her old cOmrade failed her? No
rhnuzoud times not So with q
tremendous effort, he conquered his
dread.
Mary darlin', Is it you?" he faItered.
1T is, league, dear; it is"
"An' what is it, Mary, that's keepin'
you frae your rest2 Sure YOU had the
priest, an he gave you the vIaticum.'
The voice he knew so well answered
in accents that pierced his heart.
There's nae rest for me. | flew up to
the gate Of heaven, but l wouldna be let
in, and I'm flying about the world in the
cold an the rain, or lyin' aback O. thon
thorn bush. Think on me, league, in
the night time when you ones is COM
Portable by the freside. an pity me an
help me for the sake OF we'er old
friendship"
Help your cried the poor man:
"sure Id gle my hearts blood to helpyou
but how is il to be done? An why wad
you not be let into heaven, good Iivin
woman like you?
Iii tell you league" replied the
specter; That's what I'm here to tell
you. It's true that / went about my
duty regular, an knclt wi the cOngrega-
tion in the chapel Sunday after Sunday
an / was respectit for a good Twin
woman. but in all my lifetime l never
prayed. Ny lips would be movin, but
my thoughts would be away.
When l was a young girl I'd be